


Sleeping

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Homecoming, Literal Sleeping Together, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 13:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: Mycroft returns home and he and Molly sleep together -- just sleep.





	Sleeping

His sleek black car was waiting outside of St. Bart’s as Molly left work for the day. Only when she saw the car did she allow herself to calculate how long it had been since he was last in contact with her. 

Two weeks and five days.

Humm. Three days was standard. Eight days was out of the ordinary. But this long … she tried not to think of what had kept him away for so long. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Molly weakly smiled and thanked the driver as he opened the car door for her. On the seat next to her was her overnight bag, already packed. She no longer had to worry about being On Call this weekend—because she knew she no longer was. Molly settled herself into the soft leather seat and tried to relax while she was driven to Mycroft’s house.

A carefully choreographed dance had begun.

Molly knew what waited for her. Mrs. Lockwood, Mycroft’s housekeeper greeted her warmly and led Molly into the comfortable kitchen where the two women chatted and caught up. Molly didn’t know if the stories Mrs. Lockwood told her about her children or grandchildren were true. She really didn’t mind if they were or not. Molly told the truth. She never felt the need to lie. 

Mrs. Lockwood served the two of them dinner, again in the kitchen. When Mycroft wasn’t there Molly ate with Mrs. Lockwood – the dining room was too big and empty for her to eat in there alone. After dinner and more cups of tea, the two women knitted and chatted until Mrs. Lockwood looked at her watch, “Oh dearie! Look at the time! I shouldn’t be keepen’ ya up any longer!” she said with a hint of Scottish brogue.

Molly knew that was her cue.

She put her knitting down in mid-row, thanked Mrs. Lockwood for dinner and went upstairs. Pushing the door open to the guest room she found her pyjamas and robe laid out on the bed and her toiletries waiting for her in the en-suite bath. 

Molly took a shower and got ready for bed. After putting on her pyjamas and robe, she left the guest room and walked to the end of the hall to Mycroft’s bedroom, opened the door, put her robe on the chair, then crawled into her side of the bed.

She closed her eyes and waited.

Only a few minutes had passed before she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Molly could feel the tension in his aura as Mycroft opened the door and came into his bedroom. She kept her eyes closed and listened as he took his clothes off. Hung up his suit and went into his en-suite. Molly heard the shower turn on, turn off, a towel being used, teeth being brushed and the soft sounds of Mycroft putting on his pyjamas. 

Molly could feel the weight of his stare on her back as he pulled back the covers. Mycroft took a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to will at least a little bit of the tension out of his body. He arranged himself on his side of the bed with his back towards Molly. Molly could feel the stress and angst. 

Mycroft needed time to return slowly to home. In his own time he let out a deep sigh and Molly knew he was ready. She rolled over and slowly moved towards Mycroft. Molly pressed as much of her body against him as she could: her front against his back, her legs matching the bend of his. She put her arm around him, her hand only reaching as far as his mid-chest, and pressed her cheek against his back. She inhaled the intoxicating smell of his expensive body wash through his top. To Molly that scent meant that he was finally home.

Mycroft allowed his body to begin to unwind. He was relieved she could read him so well. Usually, when he came home she would take her arm and lie it on his side so her hand rested on his upper thigh. But tonight she knew he needed her to hold him. Shortly Mycroft could feel her slow and steady breathing on his back, the warmth of her cheek and breath helping to melt away the events of the last two weeks and five days. 

Molly’s breathing became slow and regular. Mycroft felt a slight hypnic jerk signaling that Molly was well and truly asleep. He let out another huge sigh and slight groan. It felt so good to be home.

//

The dull throbbing pain in her hand woke Molly up. Slowly she opened her eyes. The bedroom was lit only by moonlight coming in through the gaps in the curtains. After a few blinks her eyes became accustomed to the darkness and soon the figure of Mycroft sleeping came into focus. 

Molly smiled. For all of his precise deminer and properness while he was awake the opposite was true of Mycroft Holmes when he slept. The bedding had been untucked and was now wound around the lower half of his body giving him the appearance of one of the figures in the Sistine Chapel. He was sleeping on his back with his arms over his head, his legs cocked and at an angle to the top half of his body. If looked at from above it looked like he had been captured in a mid-long jump. His top was pulled up exposing his torso. 

Her hand was held tightly in his. Tonight he was clutching her hand like it was the only thing that was tethering him to land, like a man who has fallen overboard and this is his one final chance to be saved.

Molly knew that releasing the grip would cause one of two reactions. Either the instant she let go Mycroft’s eyes, filled with fear would snap open like she had just allowed him to drop into an abyss. Or a few minutes after the uncoupling of their hands, his recently-freed hand would unceremoniously fumble across her body, thigh, stomach, breasts, until a hand for him to hold was once again found. 

Molly watched Mycroft sleep. His face relaxed, he looked such a different person. With the weight of the world off his shoulders for only a little while, he looked like he could be happy. Perhaps.

Molly let out a contented sigh and squeezed Mycroft’s hand twice. Somewhere in his unconsciousness something stirred and he loosened the grip and in one fluid motion, he drew Molly to him as he closed his body around her. The skin left bare by his untucked shirt found her exposed back when her shirt rode up as he moved her. 

Molly let out a contented sigh and for the second time that night fell asleep quickly.

//

The first rays of dawn could be seen through the gap in the curtains when Mycroft slowly faded back into consciousness. His arm was going numb. Mycroft rolled his head to the right and took a deep breath full of the fresh scent that was Molly. A small groan escaped with his smile as he opened his eyes and looked down at her. 

Molly was using his shoulder as a pillow. She was lying on her stomach and had one arm over his chest. Her pajama top had ridden up and most of her back was exposed. Mycroft could see her slim waist and the milky white skin of her back. It was like she was pinning him down, afraid he was going to leave. He felt guilty because he had done this to her. She never knew when he would come back. He sighed, and smiled, Probably he deserved the numb arm after this trip. He rolled onto his side which shifted her just enough to resume blood-flow and closed his eyes.

Mycroft with a smile on his face closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

//

While humming a little tune Mrs. Lockwood brought the tea tray upstairs. She put it on the table outside Mycroft’s room and put her ear to the door.  
She heard no movement and gently opened the door, tentatively poking her head in. By now sunshine was coming in through the gaps in the curtains. 

Mrs. Lockwood smiled when she saw them.

Both of them were still sound asleep. Mycroft was on his side, his arms wrapped around Molly, one arm was up the back of her shirt. One of Molly’s arms was around his waist holding him to her as she faced him. Molly’s cheek was resting on Mycroft ’s chest as if listening to his heart. Mycroft’s leg was draped over Molly’s legs. It looked like they had been ballroom dancing and frozen. The duvet was half hanging off the bed and most of the pillows were on the floor.

Mrs. Lockwood resisted the urge to cover them up. (She worried they must be cold.) Slowly she closed the door. The tea could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This has been in my finished pile forever. It could probably due with another edit -- but I decided to post it anyway. It's a drizzly day here on my island in the North Atlantic and I feel we all need a bit of Mollcroft. Enjoy!


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